Mes Sentiments sont Purs
by SerenityWritesSlash
Summary: There were five times circumstances forced Tintin and Haddock to share a bed, and one time there wasn't. Fluff, and a sprinkle Tintin/Haddock slash. Oneshot.


**_A.N: I've always wanted to do one of these prompts, so I figured, hey, why not? Tintin is a pretty good series._**

**_This may or may not be a guilty ship of mine... it's pure fluff, I swear! (and a very miniscule amount of angst) Please enjoy!_**

* * *

The first time that they were forced to share a bed was just after the case of the Shooting Star. Haddock barely knew Tintin; well, they had already considered themselves friends, but they still knew next to nothing about each other.

They had to check into a hotel just as they got back to Belgium, it was far too late to even consider calling a cab.

Tintin, being slightly more awake than Haddock, headed up to the front desk. He came back a minute later, with a bashful look on his face.

"Sorry, Captain, but..." He held out only one key, "We're going to have the share, the place is booked."

Haddock sleepily grunted, "It can't be helped, s'pose..."

The room was cramped and dusty, but Haddock couldn't bring himself to care, he was too tired at the time. However, he did notice there was only one bed, and tried to hide his surprise. He thought they'd only be sharing the room.

Tintin used the washroom first, getting in his pajamas when Haddock went in. It was very systematic.

Haddock slept close to the edge, even though he wanted to spread out more to relax his back. The captain assumed Tintin would need a bunch of room, judging from how he'd been at his age.

To his surprise, Tintin fell asleep in a completely flat pose, facing the wall opposite of Haddock. Of course, Haddock would have been fibbing if he said he didn't use this to his advantage and lay the way he wanted to.

It was awkward, but not horrible.

...

Around a year or so later, Captain Haddock found himself accompanying Tintin to Paris for an interview with some famous French movie star. Sometimes, Haddock forgot Tintin did normal journalist things from time to time.

They were much better friends, then. Haddock knew a lot of things about Tintin, having heard a bunch of his old tales and adventures. They often sat around the fireplace at Marlinspike (Haddock's amazing new mansion, which he still was convinced was a mass hallucination) and exchanged stories while Nelson brought them tea and rolled his eyes.

By the time they were done the interview, Tintin was almost as bouncy as Snowy, ready to act like a tourist instead of some raging survivor man.

Haddock trailed after him through the cobblestone streets, smiling warmly whenever Tintin turned his head to grin and point something out.

They even went to that confoundedly high Eiffel Tower. When they reached the top, Haddock was sweating buckets. It may have been the ridiculous amount of stairs, or perhaps the terrifying height, but he was shaking like a leaf.

"T...Tintin..." Haddock said (he did not whine). "H...how long do...do you want to stay up here?"

"Look at the view," Tintin gasped, "It's breathtaking."

"Yeah," Haddock mumbled, "I'm sure out of breath."

His sarcastic comment fell on deaf ears, because Tintin was too busy starting at the Paris skyline. With effort. Haddock managed to make it over next to him on the railing, clutching it with a solid conviction and white knuckles.

Tintin smiled at him, the high breeze making his cheeks redden. "Thank you for coming with me, Captain. I know it's a little scary, that's why I left Snowy with the landlady." He turned his pale, blue eyes back to the sky, which was leaked with the colours of a setting sun. "But it's beautiful."

Even though Paris from a bird's eye view was stunning, Haddock had to admit, the sight of Tintin with the setting sun, and the awe in his eyes seemed more amazing than any city.

Without thinking, he leaned his arm into Tintin's, keeping his eyes firmly on the ant-like people below. "Aye, it really is a sight to behold."

As they were walking back to the hotel, fireworks went off over the tower, and it even glowed. Tintin's eyes widened, and he grabbed Haddock's elbow.

"Fireworks!" He said it so excitedly, Haddock thought him younger than the nineteen years he was.

"What? Never seen 'em before?" Haddock asked, and Tintin shook his head so much, his quiff almost fluffed out.

"No! At least, not this close." Tintin said, and he let out a chuckle. "I remember watching them once in the orphanage..."

Before Haddock could reply, a large firework went off, sending sparks of violet through the sky.

"So loud!" Tintin exclaimed, putting his hands to his ears, "Almost like gunshots."

Haddock raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing. Tintin had seen a lot more gunfire than him, he supposed.

They finally made it to the hotel, almost half an hour later. "Blistering barnacles," Haddock complained, "My feet are almost worn to the bone!"

Tintin grinned and went for the front desk, Haddock opting to sit in the lobby chairs. He couldn't quite hear what was being said from where he sat (not to mention the fireworks were still ringing in his ears, damn things) but he could tell Tintin seemed to be frustrated.

"Looks like I made a booking error," Tintin sighed, walking back to Haddock with his hands in his trenchcoat pockets. "They don't have two rooms available, but they gave us a king."

"Ah," Haddock breathed, getting to his feet again. "We've suffered worse, lad."

Tintin looked up at him and quirked his lip into an almost smile. Haddock liked it when he did that, it always made him feel like they were sharing an inside joke.

This room was one of the nicest so far, Haddock decided, for it was white with paintings on the wall, and flowing drapes. The bathroom even looked fancy.

Haddock changed into his pajamas after he showered, trying to ignore his itch for whiskey. Tintin would probably smack him upside the head for thinking about it.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, it was a bit of a shock to see Tintin curled up, fast asleep, on the bed. He must have changed when Haddock was in there and passed right out.

The Captain found himself smiling warmly, and carefully getting under the covers so he didn't wake the younger man.

The next morning, Tintin commented on Haddock's snoring.

...

The third time they had to spend a night together was during a rather stressful trip back to Egypt.

It was nothing but harsh wind, and enough sand to drown them, the way it was blowing around. Tintin and Haddock sat in an old car, completely on edge. Snowy was whimpering in the backseat.

"We could be buried alive," Haddock whispered, "Blast it, Tintin, we can't just sit here."

Tintin shook his head, "No. But we can't risk driving in this wind, either. We've got to wait it out."

Haddock sucked in a breath, wanting nothing more than a pint, or maybe his pipe. Anything to keep himself from going mad. He tapped his fingers on the gearshift, worriedly wondering about what would become of them.

Tintin, bless his heart, reached over and gently put his dainty hand overtop of Haddock's own. When Haddock glanced at him, he was met with a fiery stare. Tintin seemed to be entrusting him with something.

"Drive. There's a town just east of here, please hurry." Tintin said, his brows creasing.

Haddock nodded, gave his hand a firm squeeze, and drove top speed over the sandy hills. He drove for what seemed like ages, Tintin even grabbed hold of Snowy for comfort.

And, finally, they came to a halt. They had reached the town, as shabby as it was, and a man ran out to greet them. Captain Haddock understood nothing of the language he spoke, but Tintin did, and he thanked his lucky stars that nice man let them come into his rocky looking building for shelter.

Haddock once again found himself in alone in a room with Tintin. This time, they had no pajamas or anything, so they just lay on the large stack of hay posing as a bed together in silence.

After minutes of listening to the wind howl, Tintin spoke. "You did a good job at getting us out of there."

"_Me?_ Thundering typhoons, you did all the work." Haddock laughed, turning to face Tintin, who did the same for him. Their foreheads were nearly touching.

"Still," Tintin looked at him shyly, "Thank you."

Haddock stared at him, feeling a familiar warmth spread across his chest. "Think nothing of it, you blithering blockhead." He ruffled Tintin's hair, and the younger man let out a childish giggle.

They fell asleep facing each other.

...

Space had been somewhat traumatizing. Damn Cuthbert, damn rockets, damn gravity.

Haddock felt stiff in his hospital bed, which was actually Tintin's as well, in order to make room in the makeshift infirmary.

Tintin was able to walk around, but everyone insisted Haddock stay in bed for a few more hours. He sighed, leaning back into his pillow and letting his muscles relax.

Tintin walked into the room shortly afterwards, looking exhausted. "I just finished writing the report... I'm beat." He fell face first into the mattress.

Haddock scooted to make room for him, snorting. "At least you're allowed to do something."

Tintin peeked at him, "Oh, shush. You're injured."

"So are you," Haddock countered, "How's your head doing?" He grimaced at the memory of Tintin being shot.

"I'm fine," Tintin murmured, moving his face back into the mattress.

"...Say," Haddock began, gulping. This was a topic he'd meant to bring up before the rocket. "You visit me at marlinspike every day, and having to pay the cab fare, as well as the bills for your place..."

Very slowly, Tintin lifted his head.

Haddock rubbed the back of his neck, nervously. He was a grown man, dammit, these things should be easy!

"Oh, confound it, want to move into marlinspike?" Haddock sighed, finally getting the question off his chest.

Tintin blinked, "Really?" His eyes were wide, and he just looked surprised more than anything.

"Yes, really." Haddock grumbled, "I want you and Snowy to live with me, is that so wrong?" The Captain had no idea why he was blushing.

"I..." Tintin sat up, "I don't know. It's just always been me and Snowy." Haddock was almost startled to see how Tintin suddenly looked so lonely. "No one's really wanted me to live with them."

Haddock let out a barking laugh, and brought Tintin's small frame in for a hug. "Damn you, lad, you're coming with me whether you like it or not!"

Weird as it was, Haddock felt Tintin smile into his chest, and he was all the more touched when he lifted his own arms and hugged Haddock back.

...

They were in Tibet, after saving that young Chinese boy Tintin was so fond of. Haddock had been worried to the point of anger up on those mountains, with Tintin raving around in desperation to find Chang. It broke his heart to see Tintin like that, refusing to believe Chang had died.

But, since that lad always seemed to attract miracles, Chang had been kept alive by some blundering beast. Haddock could only watch them from behind, as Tintin worriedly clung to his friend and they caught up on the past. It would take a fool to tell that Tintin didn't love Chang.

The group went back to Chang's uncle's house, still cold, but much healthier because of those kind monks in the temple. Chang's family rejoiced and hugged him- and they hugged Tintin, by extension, since he was still holding onto Chang as if he would disappear if he let go.

Haddock took the guest room without thinking about it. He assumed Tintin would stay with Chang that night, and was almost asleep when the young reporter slipped into the room.

"Captain?" Tintin asked, quietly.

"Here." Haddock replied gruffly, straining to sit up. His muscles were still sore from all that walking.

"...I'm so sorry." Tintin mumbled suddenly, taking a seat next to Haddock on the bed. "You... You risked your life out there for me... I was just so relieved Chang was alive that I..." He trailed off, leaning his head into Haddock's shoulder and letting out a quiet sob.

This was quite a shock for the Captain. He'd seen Tintin cry only twice before this, and those tears had only lasted seconds. And now, Tintin was gripping to his arm and crying hard into his sweater. The scares of the last couple of days must had finally hit him.

Haddock reached around Tintin to hug him, resting his chin on Tintin's head. He hoped his beard wasn't scratching him, and rubbed small, comforting circles into Tintin's back.

"There, there, lad." He whispered, "It's alright. It's alright now."

Tintin eventually stopped quivering, but he did not let go of Haddock's arm. "You could have died out there, and I was so blinded with grief, I couldn't... I didn't..."

"Hey, don't you cry about that. I made a choice, you hear? And look, I'm fine. We're fine, so stop blubbering like a whale an' smile again." Haddock chastised, taking Tintin by the shoulders and trying his best to sound motivational.

Tintin let out one final sniff, then lifted his head to smile. The two of them stared at each other silently for a little while, and then Tintin let out a yawn, so Haddock leaned back and let him fall asleep, using his chest as a pillow.

Maybe his heartbeat was comforting? Haddock had no idea, but he didn't mind. Tintin wasn't too heavy.

...

It was a thunderous night at Marlinspike, the storm seemed to last a century. Haddock was in his room, reading a book Cuthbert had recommended to him, when Tintin walked in, a pillow tucked under his arm.

"Snowy got scared and had an accident in my bed," Tintin sighed, "Do you mind if I share with you?"

Haddock raised a brow; there were tens of rooms where Tintin could have slept in the mansion, but he had come here. Either he was too scared to go looking for a new room in a storm, or maybe, just maybe, he wanted to stay with Haddock.

"No, come on in." The Captain smiled, scooting over in his large bed to make room. Tintin crawled under the covers and burrowed himself in them. Haddock stifled a laugh at the cute gesture.

"Sure is a good storm out there," Haddock commented, smiling nostalgically. "It reminds me of my days at sea."

Tintin quickly spun to face him, and eager expression on his face. "You were sailing in storms like this?"

"Of course! And typhoons worse than this little shower, that's for sure!" Haddock recalled, excitement raising in him, "Why, I've heard so much thunder, it's surprising I'm not deaf!"

Tintin laughed, "I guess you were braver than I was out there."

"You kidding? Before I met you, I was a blithering, alcoholic idiot. And a coward!" Haddock added that last part somewhat bitterly, "I'd still be, if I hadn't met you..."

He closed his book, setting it down on the bedside table. Tintin watched him with lidded eyes, and Haddock slowly lay down next to him.

"Well, I hadn't met you," Tintin said, his voice surprisingly honest. "I'd still be alone.

Haddock felt himself choke up a bit, "Tintin..."

Tintin smiled at him, and then he shuffled closer, cuddling with Haddock as if it were normal. It felt normal.

The Captain raised a hand to stroke Tintin's hair, that blasted soft hair, and he brought his free arm around Tintin's waist. They lay like that for an hour, the thunder was the only noise that could be heard.

And then, when Haddock was positive Tintin was asleep, he kissed his forehead. When he pulled back, Tintin cracked open an eye and looked at him.

For a brief second, Haddock thought he fucked everything up. But Tintin, as always, proved him wrong.

The ginger very tentatively craned his neck, taking Haddock's face in his hands. Haddock's heartbeat sped up. What was he doing?

And then, Tintin leaned up and kissed him very, very softly. His lips were so light, Haddock wondered if they were even there.

When he pulled back, his cheeks were red, and his eyes downcast. Imagine that, _Tintin was nervous!_

Haddock didn't pressure him for another kiss, but he did feel himself crack a ridiculously blissful smile. It was as if a weight had been tossed off of him.

Tintin caught one look of that smile and burst into laughter, burrowing his head into the crook of Haddock's neck. It took Haddock a minute to realize it was relieved laughter, and Tintin didn't find him completely stupid.

"Oh, cut me some slack." Haddock murmured, "I've wanted that for a long while." And he shouldn't have, really, but he had. He had been in love with Tintin for years, and had refused to let himself believe it.

"Me, too," Tintin murmured, kissing Haddock again. Perhaps he had wanted it just as badly.

They slept in each others arms that night, and every night after that. In fact, if they could help it, they never slept in separate beds again.


End file.
